


oh, but the fire went wild

by brucespringsteen



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Breeding, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Farmer Steve Rogers, M/M, Shrunkyclunks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucespringsteen/pseuds/brucespringsteen
Summary: “Hi, baby,” Steve greets Bucky, having heard him approach. Bucky’s never really quiet, and especially not to his husband’s keen ears. “What are you up to?”Bucky wriggles and crosses his arms across his chest. “Nothing,” he replies, frowning. He uncrosses his arms, then, and drops them at his sides; he has nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”“Is that so?” There’s a small, cracked mirror just above the sink; Steve raises up and looks at Bucky through the reflection. The smile on his face drops, replaced with a mystified expression that looks like a mosaic in the shattered mirror. His eyes widen and his cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. “Well, this definitely is a surprise,” Steve says, and his voice is hot, like steam off boiling water left on the stove.-Bucky approaches Steve in the barn wearing his cowgirl outfit because he wants to be bred.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 23
Kudos: 203





	oh, but the fire went wild

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peachybuckys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachybuckys/gifts).



> this is pure filth for [cait](https://twitter.com/peachybuckys)
> 
> title's from johnny cash because naming fics is hard but listening to old music is easy <3
> 
> p.s. steve refers to bucky as his “favorite cow” and also says several variations of “get you fat with my baby” so be advised reading on!

The grass tickles between Bucky’s toes as he makes his way across the yard toward the barn where his husband is. The outfit he’s wearing—a spontaneous buy on a shopping trip with Natasha, a tight little lingerie set with a bra, panties, skirt, and garters, patterned white and black like the cows in the front pasture—pinches at his fat hips and he huffs, squirms, digs his fingers in the elastic at his waist and tugs until he’s not as cold-hot with simultaneous shame and arousal when he put it on moments ago.

It doesn’t matter that he feels like a fool, dressed in too-small lingerie patterned like a milk cow or that the outfit is too small, squeezing the soft areas around his hips and thighs and tummy, because Steve loves him and loves when Bucky dresses like a slutty cowgirl. It gets the both of them _hot_.

It’s that thought, the promise of knowing that Steve won’t laugh at him when he proposes the fantasy that has been bouncing back and forth in his mind lately, that gives him the courage to stride into the barn. He sees Steve immediately in the far left corner, washing his hands in the tiny sink; he sidesteps bales of hay that Steve has yet to put into the stalls for the calving mothers and comes to stand right behind Steve.

“Hi, baby,” Steve greets Bucky, having heard him approach. Bucky’s never really quiet, and especially not to his husband’s keen ears. “What are you up to?”

Bucky wriggles and crosses his arms across his chest. “Nothing,” he replies, frowning. He uncrosses his arms, then, and drops them at his sides; he has nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Is that so?” There’s a small, cracked mirror just above the sink; Steve raises up and looks at Bucky through the reflection. The smile on his face drops, replaced with a mystified expression that looks like a mosaic in the shattered mirror. His eyes widen and his cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. “Well, this definitely is a surprise,” Steve says, and his voice is hot, like steam off boiling water left on the stove.

Every fragment of embarrassment leaves Bucky as soon as Steve turns around, showing Bucky the big grin he’s sporting. How could he ever think this man— _his_ man, _his_ husband—would ever turn him away?

“Do you like it?” he asks, feigning bashfulness and fingering the hem of the tiny skirt he’s got rucked up high on his hips. His ass looks too good in the thong to keep it hidden. “I got it just for you.” 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Steve curses beneath his breath, hastily wiping his hands to dry off on his jeans. “I do. You look so good, like my favorite little cow.”

Bucky preens beneath Steve’s scorching, heavy gaze; goosebumps break out across his flesh and he shivers beneath Steve’s gaze. “If I’m your favorite little cow, does that mean I get whatever I want?”

Steve chuckles under his breath and strides forward. “Of course,” he says, ever the pleaser, the best husband Bucky could ask for, and puts his big hands on Bucky’s hips, gripping the fat there. He uses his thumbs to rub little circles on Bucky’s hips, just above the waist of the skirt he’s wearing. “What do you want, baby?”

Bucky hums, stepping further into Steve’s orbit. It’s a wonder, truly, how he can have this: this life with Steve, with the man who he met in a support group after the snap that took from them the ones they loved most. They found solace in one another, relating to each other the pain of watching their best friends turn to dust right in front of their eyes; in those five years, something shifted dramatically in Bucky’s heart, making room for the man in front of him. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect Steve to feel the same—to admit to feeling the same first, too.

The fool. The lovely, annoying fool. It’s been years now and, still, Steve keeps Bucky on his toes, always wanting more but never having to ask for it.

“I want this,” Bucky says, reaching out with questing hands to grab Steve’s cock. He’s half-hard, warm beneath the crotch of the denim; Bucky rubs his palm over the bulge and undoes the button, pulls down the zip, dips his fingers beneath the waist and into the thicket of hair there. “I want this inside of me as deep as you can get it.”

Steve laughs, outwardly delighted; beneath Bucky’s palm, he feels Steve swell and fatten, a delicious promise for the fucking that is about to come. “How deep?”

Bucky swallows. “I want to feel you here,” he replies, removing his fingers from Steve’s fat prick and grabbing Steve’s hand, placing it just above his bellybutton.

Steve sighs deep within his chest and presses Bucky’s stomach, hard and firm. “Right here, huh?” He splays his fingers and digs his nails into Bucky’s tummy, smoothing the marks left behind gently, patiently. This man is so good, so wonderful—Bucky is the most blessed man in the world. “So deep that my favorite little cow gets fat with a baby?”

“Yes,” Bucky groans, long and low, ignoring the animalistic urge that sentence awakens in him, and surges forward, pressing himself as far into Steve’s atmosphere as he can. “Oh, yes, _please_.”

Steve cradles Bucky’s face in his hands, reverent and captivated, and draws Bucky’s mouth to his. Steve tastes hot and slick, and his tongue fucks into Bucky’s mouth deliciously, deeply, a definite mimic of the pounding he’s about to serve, and Bucky swoons, lost in the promise, lost in the sensuality of his husband.

He grips Steve’s biceps with both of his hands, digging his nails into the skin that isn’t covered by the cutoff shirt he’s wearing. His muscles are so large; Bucky himself isn’t much smaller but he is softer, and, _fuck_ , it’s hot, it’s so beyond hot, to know that his husband could toss him around like he weighed nothing at all because, to Steve, retired Captain America and on-call Commander Rogers, he _does_ weigh nothing.

Steve’s hands slip from Bucky’s face and curl over his shoulders; his fingers tickle between the straps of the bra he’s wearing, pulling up and then letting the elastic bands slap back against Bucky’s skin, before continuing further, ghosting along the ridges of muscle and bone of Bucky’s back before he reaches Bucky’s ass. He grabs two solid fistfuls and bends his knees, slightly, prompting Bucky to jump up.

Bucky jumps, moaning into Steve’s mouth, and wraps his legs around Steve’s waist. Steve walks them backward, thumps them against the door of the stable; he reaffirms his grip on Bucky’s ass, lifts him up till he’s sitting on Steve’s hips, and then pulls back, grinning when Bucky follows, pouting like a baby.

“Where do you want it, sweetheart? You want in the house, on our bed? Or do you want in the barn like an animal, on your hands and knees while I fuck you from behind?”

Bucky grapples for purchase as Steve bucks, readjusting his stance, and drops his mouth open to give a hurried, “Yes, baby, like that,” before he shoves forward and takes Steve’s mouth with his once again. He kisses deep, kisses filthy; he tears at Steve’s shirt, pulling it up and over Steve’s head, and then fondles Steve’s pecs, holding the tits in his palms and flicking Steve’s nipples till they’re hard enough to cut glass.

When Steve’s hands slip beneath the hem of Bucky’s skirt and begins to knead the skin there, spreading and pulling and tugging, dipping a fingertip just across the area where Bucky is wet and stretched, having had the foresight to prepare for this coupling beforehand, Bucky leaves Steve’s lips and attaches to the bend of Steve’s neck. He suckles the skin there, tonguing the salty flesh, and moans, deep, like a whore, like Steve’s whore—and that’s what he is, what he has allowed himself to be.

It’s been years, and a long, lonely life, and now he’s here with his man who sees him, who allows himself to be seen, and Bucky has never felt like he belonged anywhere until he found himself in Steve’s arms.

Steve passes his fingertips across Bucky’s puckered hole. “Oh,” he breathes, delighted, and presses the tip of a finger just inside, just enough to tease. “You’re slick.” He laughs and presses a quick kiss to Bucky’s temple. “Hop down, sweet pea, and get my dick wet with that mouth of yours.”

Bucky does as he’s told, removing his legs from around Steve’s hips till he’s standing, more than a little shaky. He falls back against the wall for support and watches Steve step back and reach into his jeans; he grips his cock at the base and squeezes, hissing, before pulling himself out. He’s fat and long and hard, and the tip is wet with beaded precum.

Uncaring of the state of the barn floor, Bucky drops to his knees and scoots forward on the loose straw; Steve meets him halfway, feeding his cock into Bucky’s open mouth with a sigh of relief. He cups Bucky’s face with one hand, uses the other to comb the bangs off Bucky’s forehead, and gives Bucky a tender, loving smile that feels like thunder in Bucky’s veins and lightning in his blood and a wildfire in his heart.

This man loves him. This man _adores_ him—bought him a house after he retired, built him a safe haven to retreat to when the world and its demands get a little too much. This man has given Bucky all the things that he never knew he needed—freedom to express himself, room to grow and run, a farm full of animals to nurture and dote upon—and all he asked in return was a fraction of the love he had to offer.

All the love that Steve loses gets replaced with the love that Bucky gives to him, an endless cycle of reclaimed love cultivated and held dear through the years, festering and gathering interest until it found somebody to find a home in.

Bucky is that home for Steve. How absolutely _lovely_.

Shutting his eyes, Bucky swipes his tongue along the bottom of Steve’s shaft, using his spit to lather the length as best as he can. Steve holds him, more to simply touch than restrict movement, and Bucky moves forward, feeling the press of Steve’s cockhead against the back of his throat and swallowing around it. Steve yelps and jerks, thrusting forward, and Bucky is gagged, deliciously so, and tears spring to his eyes, and he looks up at Steve, bats his spiky lashes innocently, obscenely.

Steve pulls his hips back and hisses when the fresh air hits his wet cock. “Hands and knees, Buck,” he says, slapping Bucky once, gently, on the cheek. “I’m gonna fuck you in your little getup and make you fat with my baby.”

Bucky, half-delirious with the knowledge that Steve is going to fuck him so good he can feel it in his throat, scraps his palms on the concrete floor as he gets into position, arching his back and spreading his knees so Steve can get a real nice look at the way the panties are straining to cup his dick and hold his balls.

He hopes he looks good. He _knows_ he looks good—Steve is good at keeping secrets, like what he’s getting Bucky for his birthday or where they’re going on their monthly date, but even he can’t fake the heady arousal hanging in the air.

“Look at this ass,” Steve muses, mostly to himself; he grips Bucky’s ass cheek, digs his fingernails into the plump flesh, before letting go and smacking him once, twice, three times. The sting is delicious and Bucky humps backward, chasing Steve’s mean hand as Steve flips Bucky’s skirt up and pulls the thin thong strap to the side. “And this hole.” He presses his thumb just inside, holding it there even as Bucky whines and bites into the meat of his arm to stifle his cries. “This is mine.”

It isn’t a question, but Bucky finds that he answers it anyway, with a gasped litany of, “Yours, yours,” that makes Steve chuckle like the possessive bastard he is. “In me, now, please.”

Steve hums in acquiescence and puts the tip of his cock against Bucky’s entrance. “Relax, baby,” he says, and Bucky does as he’s told because he’s good, because he wants to make Steve happy, and Steve presses forward, just a bit, eliciting a sharp cry. “You’re already this loud? It’s just the tip, darling. How loud are you going to be when I’m all the way inside you, huh?”

It’s a feat to hold himself still and not take more than he’s given as he curls his torso to look up at Steve over his shoulder. “Let’s find out,” he says, raising a brow.

With a feral sort of grin, Steve pushes the rest of the way in, steady and firm; Bucky feels himself burn at the stretch, swallowing Steve’s impressive girth, before Steve is nestled against his ass, tucked deep inside where he belongs.

“ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.” Steve lays his bare chest against Bucky’s back, bearing down. “Speechless, huh?” He pulls his hips back, fucks inside hard, sharp; the sound of skin on skin permeates the air, drowning out the faraway moos from the cows in the back pasture. He kisses Bucky’s neck, biting at the strap of the bra and pushing it off Bucky’s shoulder so he can mouth at Bucky’s skin, leaving a telltale mark behind. “You don’t have to talk, sweetheart. Just lay there with your ass up like a good little slut and take it, okay?”

Bucky, so full he can feel Steve in his throat, nods and readjusts his balance, settling in for a good, deep fucking.

“Good boy.” Steve lifts off and grabs Bucky’s hips. “Just take it, baby. That’s all you gotta do.”

Steve slaps Bucky’s ass till it’s burning with red heat, a nice addition to his shallow thrusts, and then, suddenly, Bucky is being absolutely railed from behind, which is just lovely, so good and so deep, and he goes stupid with it, losing himself to the sensation of being stretched, of being full.

Steve fucks into him like a man on a mission, furious and carving; his momentum shoves Bucky forward, draws him back, and his face is irritated from scratching in the hay, but he doesn’t care, he knows Steve will take care of him later, after, and right now it’s just an added sense of pleasure.

A boiling knot forms in the pit of Bucky’s stomach where Steve is rearranging his guts, the only sign before he’s coming, abruptly, and into his panties, messing them up probably beyond fixing; it’s intense and long, and Steve rubs his hip but fucks him through it, pressing his cock adamantly against Bucky’s prostate and never once faltering his rhythm even when Bucky begins to whimper from overstimulation.

“D’you come?”

Bucky huffs and nods, unable to speak. He’s always been able to come from penetration and prostate simulation alone, but never that fast.

Steve reaches around with one hand, cups Bucky’s softening prick in the palm of his hand and squeezes, spreading the wetness up and out of the panties. He makes a noise of inquisition echoed by a throaty groan.

“Steve,” he breathes, nearly sobbing. “Steve, please.”

He isn’t sure what he’s asking. His mind is a scrambled mess; all he knows is that he wants to keep Steve in him, like this, forever, even if it hurts.

“What is it, baby?” Steve coos, placating Bucky like he’s a child. “Does it hurt?”

Bucky gasps and nods, dissolving into tears as Steve redoubles his efforts, switching the long, hard thrusts that slap against Bucky’s ass and scrapes the teeth of the zipper against his sensitive cheeks to quick, sharp jackknives that hit Bucky’s prostate in a staccato-like pattern that makes Bucky’s breathing hitch with every inhale and exhale.

“That’s okay, baby. I’m almost done.” Steve rubs the small of Bucky’s back, dipping his fingers in the sweat that’s surely gathering there. “You look so good like this, darling, so fucked out on my cock.” His hand reaches around, splays along Bucky’s tummy and presses, deflating the fat as he pushes in, in, in, so far that Bucky can feel his stomach distend just the faintest amount. “Fuck, I’m coming.”

The thing is, when Steve comes, he _comes,_ with a punched out moan and a shudder that makes his entire body tremble. It’s a copious amount, something abnormal; he gushes and squirts so much that it drips out of Bucky and down his crack, mixing with his own cum in the crotch of his panties.

Bucky loves it, loves being Steve’s favorite cum dump.

“When I pull out,” Steve begins, and his voice is decidedly wrecked, music to Bucky’s fuzzy ears, “keep your ass up in the air, baby. Gotta let gravity get my cum all the way in.”

Steve pulls out. Bucky grunts at the sudden emptiness, feeling just a little lost now that he doesn’t have Steve inside him anymore. Worriedly, Bucky flails about and reaches behind, grabbing for Steve. Steve meets him halfway, as always, and tangles their fingers together, leaning forward to put a kiss to the gold wedding ring on Bucky’s finger to let him know that he’s there, that he will always be there.

“You okay?”

Bucky nods. “Just a little sore,” he answers. “And empty.”

Steve huffs. “Well, that’s because you’re leaking everything I stuffed you full with.”

“Put it back in.”

“Greedy boy.” Steve gives Bucky’s fingers one last squeeze before letting go to examine Bucky’s hole.

Bucky wonders what Steve sees, if he notices the way Bucky shaved his hole till it was pink and windy in the tiny mirror, if he notices how tacky his cum is as it dries on his balls, if he notices how fucked out and puckered Bucky’s hole is.

“Beautiful,” Steve says, awed, kissing one of the handprints he must’ve left behind when he was swatting Bucky’s ass.

“ _Steve._ ”

“Hold on a second, baby. Let me admire my handiwork.” He swipes his thumb along Bucky’s perineum, gathering his cum and Bucky’s, too; there’s a sucking sound and Bucky knows it’s Steve eating their jizz off his finger. “I fucked you so good.”

Bucky mewls as his hole twitches; Steve gasps and gathers the cum that squirted out, and stuffs it back inside Bucky’s hole, smearing the jizz around the rim like a healing salve.

“Clench up and keep it in there,” Steve says, half-mystified and more than a little gone. He pulls the strap of the thong back into place, for all the goodit does now, already damp under the cum that just doesn’t want to stay inside. “Don’t you wanna catch? Don’t you wanna get fat with my baby?”

Bucky moans and nods, puts both hands on his stomach and cradles the little bit of fat there that won’t grow into anything else, no matter how many times Steve breeds him, pumps him full of his seed with the promise to get him chubby with a baby.

“C’mon.” Steve helps Bucky to his feet, holding him around the waist as he sags forward. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

Bucky smiles. “Okay,” he says, giggling when Steve bends and picks him up bridal style, ever the gentleman and especially after fucking Bucky so good he can’t see straight. “Love you.”

Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s temple, quiet but loud, so loud, at the same time.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/geraskefers)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [favorite little cow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27525847) by [ursa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ursa/pseuds/ursa)




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